


Gold and Blood

by Carlisle_Mango (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU?, Dark, England has a crush on America, FrUK, M/M, Random - Freeform, RusAme, RusAme is background, Sad, World Domination, angsty, insane character, magical arthur, suicidal character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 10:50:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18072014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Carlisle_Mango
Summary: Arthur Kirkland isn't happy. He feels like the world is an illusion made for the weak of heart, and that he was never meant to be part of it.He doesn't feel as if anyone want him, so he turns to his magic, a knowledge he'd studied for as long as he could remember. If they won't accept him the way he is, he'll force them to.And then he'll end his life.





	1. Chapter 1

His mind swam, black dots dancing in front of his eyes. The back of his head ached; a floor board creaked behind him.

He ducked to keep from being struck again, but his attacker was with him already. Laughter rang in his ears. It was too dark to see. Pain exploded on the rear of his skull and his world was plunged into darkness. 

The sound of his attacker echoed strangely, seemingly far away. He tried to get to his feet, but was kicked back down. The other person said something mocking. He was struck again, he deserved it. Again, and it stung. Again, and he wanted to scream out his apologies. Again, and it was too much to bear.


	2. Arthur

Arthur sat bolt upright, ~~scared~~   ~~worried~~ horrified. His dream had been more vivid than it had been before. He could still see the figure that haunted him, if he closed his eyes.

Glancing over at his clock, he realized he needed to prepare for another uneventful day at school. Arthur had felt like an adult until he came here. Now he felt immature compared to the number of seasoned adults around.

He got dressed and made himself some tea, forgetting (as usual) to fix his hair. He loved his tea. The smell was _delightful—_

The British man always had tea in the morning, even if he did skip breakfast. It him feel alive.

Alive.

_A - l - i - v - e_

**Aliiiiivee**...

Arthur woke up standing sideways and facing the wrong direction, staring at the ceiling. His ceiling fan cast liquid shadows over the white expanse as it spun, showing him exactly how many cobwebs there were.

With a groan, he picked himself up, muttering curses under his breath. That wasn't supposed to happen anymore. He had finally quit acting like he didn't need magic. It was like an addiction. Once you _began_ —

He was outside, and he grinned at his ability to phase through space. It certainly saved time, even if it made him  ~~exhausted~~ ~~~~~~tired~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~feel strange. ~~~~

Arthur walked along the sidewalk, taking in the dreary grey morning and deciding he despises the outdoors. He lived on campus and the place smelled like ~~rubbish~~   ~~a sewer~~ a bloody factory. 

At least the grass was green. Arthur used to love rolling in it when he was younger. It made him sad to see it now.

His classes were, in comparison, dreary as well. Boring teachers, boring classmates, everyone except Alfred acted like nothing mattered. 

If Arthur decided to be entirely honest, he would admit Alfred was the reason he didn't just do the online classes. Alfred had thought it'd be fun, and Arthur would do anything for Alfred. He ~~loved~~   ~~liked~~ cared for him deeply.

Sadly, Arthur soon had to cross the dry, cracked drive and leave the grass to get to the educational building. Its only defining identification was the large letter that belonged to the school.

One thing Arthur liked about his university was that it was tamer than high school. In fact, it wasn't like high school at all, except for Alfred and the French guy. One of those, however, Arthur would prefer to keep with himself forever. 

The inside of the building smelled to Arthur like chemicals and sadness. It made his shoulders slump and he pulled his sleeve down to cover his cuts. 

He was fine, he was here, his feet worked and so did hislegsthatwasarelief, nothewallsarentmoving —

Arthur cursed as he stood up. He'd hit his head on the hard concrete of the floor, and he wiped a "frustrated tear" from his eye. When he finally reached the classroom and found he was an hour late, putting more cuts on his arm and going back home sounded good to him. 

It wasn't like anyone really cared. 

Really cared.

 _R - e - a - l —_  

 


	3. Alfred

Arthur didn't consider himself good looking. His eyes were to colour of mucus, in his opinion, and his hair was an average blond. His skin was pale no matter how much time in the sun he spent.

 

Arthur didn't consider himself intelligent or funny or witty or cool. In fact, when he thought about it, there was no part of himself he was actually ~~happy~~   ~~content~~  satisfied with.

 

That's why he always thought about it. He was ~~broken~~   ~~ruined~~  flawed but he was magic. Or at least, he was capable of magic.

 

Every night, when it was too dark to see and too late for anyone to care, Arthur would practice. It had started small, a childish desire to be able to do more, to succeed in something no one he knew was capable of.

 

It had evolved to something a bit larger. Rippling waves of emotion. Storms of desire. Mountains and mountains of power, taller and higher and better and capable of making himself stronger, because his mortal form was weak  _and—_

 

And someone was knocking on the door. Arthur threw the black robe on the basement floor and raced up the staircase. Who was it and why were they here? He wasn't ready and he'd had an alarm, so why?

 

His hair was ruffled and his face was smudged with the soot from the fire downstairs, but he was unaware of this as he opened the door.

 

"Arthur!" He was smothered and squeezed and he knew who it was. The hug was returned and then he escaped the grip of the visitor.

 

"Hello, Alfred," he said, standing with his back straight and his face neutral. As he took in his friend's appearance, he sighed. Alfred always wore such awful baggy clothes. He had no self respect.

 

"What are you doing here?" Alfred laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head. "I was. . .out," he said. "With a friend. I saw your light on and you skipped everything today. I thought I'd check on you."

 

Arthur stared at him for a moment. It sounded like Alfred was actually concerned. Like maybe he really cared about him. Of course, it wasn't in the way Arthur would prefer, but it did make him feel warm.

 

"Thanks for checking in," he said. He mocked a yawn. "It is late, though."

 

Alfred gave him another hug. "Maybe we can hang tomorrow?"

 

Arthur studied him for a moment. Usually he'd say yes, but he might need this time to work on the particularly destructive types of magic, while he didn't have to worry about being anywhere. He'd actually planned on going down to the manor.

 

"Or not," Alfred said. He shrugged and made for the door. Arthur caught sight of a waiting car outside when Alfred opened the door, but couldn't place who it belonged to.

 

"Goodbye," Arthur said, turning to go back downstairs. Alfred gave him a wave and then finally shut the door.


End file.
